


One More Sunset

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25899274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Shiro looks up at Keith and pauses halfway through a funny story from this afternoon’s training (involving a loose button, an open jar, and one very confused cadet), arrested by Keith’s look. He’s not quite sure how to discern it.“What is it?” Shiro asks, pausing mid-flourish.“Nothing,” Keith says with a shrug, mouth playing at a smile, and Shiro knows that answer is an absolute lie. He tilts his head. “Keep going, Shiro.”Or: Keith finally decides to make a move.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 314





	One More Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> So, a few months back I did a meme on Twitter of "your art = my fic", where I took art and made short little ficlets. I ended up really liking the one I wrote for Sa's [art of prekerb sheith](https://twitter.com/LStrikesArt/status/1218545254992728065) and decided to expand it a bit!
> 
> Note on the "creator chose not to use archive warnings": the fic does not explicitly state in any way whether Keith is of age or underage. Take care of yourself! ♥

Shiro watches the sunset just like he does every evening. 

It’s been a long week, but the weeks are only going to feel longer leading up to the Kerberos launch. There’s a lot to do to prepare and even more to get sorted. But Shiro’s passed every physical, completed every training, studied every safety protocol. 

He’s ready, he thinks. 

He’s ready. 

His body aches today, the way it always does, and Shiro knows that stubbornness alone won’t prevent flare-ups from his disease, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Add that to how he can’t fight the squirmy feeling in his gut that comes with that weight before any launch, that anticipation and thrill of what’s to come, and all that underlying anxiety. Shiro thinks it’ll probably never go away— how he can prepare for anything and everything, but he’d still be nervous. Something could always go wrong and still take him by surprise. 

The morbid part of him thinks to enjoy this feeling, even for its unpleasantness. He’s not sure how many more pre-launch lead-ups he has left. 

He hears the door open behind him and already knows it’s Keith. 

“Surprised to find you here,” Keith says. He has good timing, appearing just before Shiro’s thoughts turn too depressing and existential. Almost like he could sense it and came running. But that’s just how Keith is. 

The thought makes Shiro smile. 

“Well. It is my place.” He laughs. “For now.”

Lately, if Keith’s needed to find Shiro, he’s been looking in other places— the Garrison roof, the hoverbikes hangar, the gym, the commissary. Shiro hasn’t necessarily been avoiding his new quarters— brand new, nothing left of Adam here— but he hasn’t really allowed himself to settle in, either. It doesn’t really feel like his. Not really. He’ll be giving it back to the Garrison soon enough, after all. 

“Hey, Keith,” he says in belated greeting, turning to smile at his friend and watching as Keith hoists himself up onto the counter Shiro leans against. It puts them at eye level. 

“Hey.” 

It’s as easy as that. Just an exchange of words. He leans a little closer towards Keith, just to broadcast that it’s okay for him to do the same. Sure enough, as soon as Shiro shifts in, Keith drapes his arm around his shoulders, leaning into his space. Keith’s position puts him slightly higher than Shiro, but neither of them really mind that. Shiro kind of likes the way Keith curves himself around Shiro like a parenthetical. 

“Did you need something or did you just want to hang out?” Shiro asks.

Keith shakes his head. “Wanted to find you. End of the day and all.” 

“Good day?” 

“A day,” Keith says. 

Shiro breathes a laugh, then slings his arm around Keith’s waist to tug him in closer still. He hears Keith’s pleased sound in response, snuggling in against him. Shiro ignores the ache in his body that simple action affords him. He’s good at ignoring things. 

Keith looks casually relaxed, the sleeves of his uniform coat rolled up to his elbows, his hair growing long at the nape. Not regulation, but despite some reprimands, he hasn’t been made to cut his hair yet.

“What about you?” Keith asks.

“It was a day,” Shiro agrees. 

They watch the sunset together through Shiro’s window— not as good as watching out in the desert, but still good. Shiro’s quarters have a decent view. 

It’s easy like this. 

Sometimes, it still takes Shiro by surprise how quickly he and Keith bonded, how it feels like he’s known Keith for years and years. Keith understands him and Shiro thinks he’s gotten pretty good at reading Keith in turn. 

Shiro’s never known this feeling— how easy it can be to just stay silent together for hours, just watching the sunset or the stars or videos or simulations. It’s just easy with Keith. 

Warmth coils in Shiro’s gut, much as he tries to ignore it. 

There are a few things he tends to ignore when it comes to Keith. There are too many complications, in the end. Maybe, if things were different— if Shiro weren’t launching into a year-long mission soon, if he weren’t technically a commanding officer, if. If. 

Keith’s hand feels like a brand on his shoulder. He can feel Keith breathing. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him, in that unyielding way of his— like he’s always looking at Shiro and finding something worthwhile. 

“You going to sit up here, too?” Keith asks.

Shiro’s muscles have been aching all day. The idea of just sitting is agony, his joints ready to scream in pain at the mere idea. He shakes his head, leaning back against the countertop. 

He appreciates it about Keith that he never asks for an explanation and never looks at him with pity in the moments when Shiro feels limited. Keith accepts Shiro’s position leaning against the counter and just curls into him. Shiro doesn’t know how it’s possible for them to get even closer than they already are, but Keith always finds a way. Shiro squeezes his hip. 

Keith pets his fingers along Shiro’s shoulder, soothing and slow. It’s not a massage, but Shiro feels tension sink away from him all the same. He wonders if Keith’s even aware he’s touching Shiro like this. 

He wonders if Keith has any idea what he does to Shiro. 

“This place doesn’t feel like mine,” Shiro says, looking out the window. That, at least, he can admit to Keith. 

“Yeah?”

Shiro shrugs. He never really feels like he belongs in a _place_ , really. He’s never felt that way. He’s not even really sure if he feels like he’s at home in the stars, considering all the red-tape he has to cut through to get there. But maybe the stars are the closest to belonging he’s ever felt.

Being with Keith feels like belonging, too. He likes that feeling. But Keith isn’t a place. Wherever Keith is, Shiro’s happy there, too. He’s happy just being near Keith. 

They’re friends, he reminds himself. 

“That’s okay,” Keith says. “You don’t have to make it yours. It’s just for now.” 

Shiro smiles, covering his hand over Keith’s and squeezing, their fingers slotting together. The action makes his wrist ache, his bracelet chirping once with a threat to activate and stimulate his muscles. Not quite necessary yet, but a reminder. 

“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro laughs. “What would I do without you?”

“I didn’t do anything.” 

Shiro squeezes his hand again. “You don’t have to do anything in particular for me to be thankful you’re around.” 

Keith rolls his eyes, but his smile betrays his delight at the praise. It makes Shiro feel all warm again, fuzzy and coiling in his chest. He likes making Keith happy. It always feels like a victory.

“Yeah?” Keith asks. 

“Of course,” Shiro says. “You know I love you.” 

Keith sucks in a breath and looks down, smiling. “I…”

He swallows, hesitating. It’s almost sweet how shyness overtakes Keith, how he can go from confident and teasing to something quieter in the blink of an eye. 

Shiro knows how Keith feels about him— he knows that he’s important to Keith. He also knows it’s not easy for Keith to say those words back. On Keith’s birthday last year, Shiro had said it to him for the first time— _Keith, you’re my best friend. I love you, bud._

At the time, Keith had gotten weird. Not uncomfortable with the idea of Shiro loving him, but the idea that _anybody_ could love him. It’d broken Shiro’s heart. He’s been sure to say it ever since, again and again, whenever he can. He’s determined to do so until Keith’s used to hearing it— until he can accept it without disbelief. 

Shiro tugs on a piece of Keith’s hair. A quiet reminder: Keith doesn’t have to say it back if he doesn’t want to. The small gesture makes his arm twinge with pain.

Keith shakes his head though. He manages a quiet, tentative, “I love you too, Shiro.” 

The first time Keith ever said it to Shiro, it’d been three weeks after his birthday. They’d been sparring on the mats when Keith just blurted out, _Me too. Sorry I didn’t say it before. I, um, love you. Too. Also._

Shiro had smiled at the time, hugging him tight. 

Shiro hasn’t gotten around to clarifying that he’s also _in_ love with Keith. But he figures that’s something to hold close for now. There will be time later, better timing— after he’s home from Kerberos, maybe. When he’s not Keith’s commanding officer, maybe. When Shiro’s sure his disease isn’t about to make him fold in on himself, never to be seen again. Maybe. 

“Tell me about your day,” Keith says, steady and calm. He seems to have recovered from Shiro’s declaration, looking comfortable in Shiro’s space once again.

And Shiro tells him. Nothing particularly exciting happened today, but he had a few interesting moments— a fat squirrel outside his window this morning, a casual flight sim after lunch where he almost re-beat Keith’s score Things like that. 

It’s always easy to talk with Keith. 

Shiro looks up at Keith and pauses halfway through a funny story from this afternoon’s training (involving a loose button, an open jar, and one very confused cadet), arrested by Keith’s look. He’s not quite sure how to discern it. 

“What is it?” Shiro asks, pausing mid-flourish.

“Nothing,” Keith says with a shrug, mouth playing at a smile, and Shiro knows that answer is an absolute lie. He tilts his head. “Keep going, Shiro.” 

Sitting above Shiro like this, having to duck down to be closer, to meet his eye, with just the slightest slump of his shoulders, Keith looks so casual and at ease. He sits like he owns the place— like he knows of his belonging. 

And, really, that’s all Shiro ever wanted for Keith: for him to know that he belongs, that he is welcomed. Always. 

“Is the story boring?” Shiro asks, uncertain. Keith shakes his head. “Then what?” 

Keith stares at him, something fierce and wild in his eyes. Shiro’s always loved that about Keith too, how he always seems like the wildness of the desert, of the stars, condensed down into one strong body. 

It’s the last thought Shiro manages before Keith sighs and mutters, “Ah. Fuck it.”

And then his hand covers Shiro’s, pressing it down against the counter. Keith ducks down, slamming his mouth to Shiro’s in a kiss that steals Shiro’s breath not for the finesse of it, but for the sheer shock of it. Shiro’s eyes blink wide and his lips part involuntarily, gasping against Keith’s mouth. It’s muffled by the slide of Keith’s tongue, his brow scrunched up with a determined twist. 

Keith kisses Shiro like it’s a challenge to be faced down. He is fierce in all things, and that apparently includes kissing. He presses closer to Shiro, like he could steal all breath, all pain, all surprise from Shiro’s lips if only he got closer. His teeth drag across the swell of Shiro’s bottom lip, trying to kiss him deeper. 

Shiro’s so shocked, so still, he forgets to react to the kiss. He stares at Keith with wide eyes when Keith draws back again. 

“K- Keith—” 

“I've wanted to do that since forever,” Keith admits, face as red as Shiro’s feels. 

There’s a stilted silence where Shiro isn’t sure what to say, isn’t sure what his face must be doing. But Keith watches him steadily, unwilling to look away, unwilling to back away when it comes to something he feels strongly. 

He searches Shiro’s eyes and must find what he’s looking for. After a moment, his mouth quirks into a shy, but pleased smile. 

“Thanks for the story, Shiro.” 

“Keith—” 

Keith cups Shiro’s chin and tips his face up, kissing him for a second time. Somehow, it manages to shock Shiro all over again. 

But what shocks him more is that he kisses Keith back. Logically, he knows he shouldn’t. And yet he does it anyway. 

Shiro’s never been good at following all the rules, after all. 

Shiro sighs out, pressing in closer, and opens his mouth to Keith. It’s worth it for the sound Keith makes— delight, relief, desire. Keith shifts his hand to cup the back of Shiro’s neck, dragging him in closer. He shifts, spreading his legs at the edge of the counter and pulling Shiro forward to slot between his thighs.

Shiro’s hands touch Keith’s hips and hold on. Keith makes a soft sound, kissing Shiro slowly, like he’s trying to breathe him in, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of him. Shiro forgets the pain in his aching limbs in favor of touching Keith, sliding from his hips down to squeeze his thighs. Keith gasps. 

But Shiro remembers himself and draws away with a little breath. “Keith… wait.” 

“Why?” 

The question is so unexpected that Shiro can’t help but laugh. The sound punches out of him, throaty and breathless. His hands are still on Keith’s thighs. He thinks he should probably pull his hands back, but he doesn’t manage it. 

Keith’s fingers are curled gently at the back of Shiro’s neck, his other hand touching his jaw. 

“Sorry, you just… you took me by surprise,” Shiro says, fumbling. 

Keith nods, his eyes a burning fire as he stares at Shiro. His hand drops from Shiro’s chin to touch his chest instead, fingertips ghosting the top button of his coat. Shiro’s cosmically aware of how he stands between Keith’s thighs, so close to him, his mouth still damp from Keith’s lips. It’d be laughably easy to lean in and kiss again. 

It's clear that’s what Keith wants. The knowledge of that shocks Shiro a little, sparking down deep into his gut. It’s only because he’s gripping Keith’s thighs that his hands don’t start shaking. 

“Why now?” Shiro asks.

Keith hums, and pops the button of Shiro’s coat. His fingertips brush across Shiro’s clavicle and up the hollow of his throat. Shiro swallows and he feels the flex of his own body against Keith’s fingertips. 

“I— I don’t think I’m wrong,” Keith says. “In thinking you like me, too. Right?” 

Shiro’s lips part as he blinks at Keith in surprise. 

“You’ve said. That you love me,” Keith says in a quiet murmur. 

His fingers press so close against Shiro’s chest that he must feel his heart beating. 

“And anyway,” Keith says. “I know everything is… ramping up for you. I don’t— I know we won’t get to hang out as much. I wanted…” He shrugs helplessly, like he can’t even put to voice all the things he desires. He smiles, that strange mix of confident and shy, that perfectly earnest Keith smile. “This. While we can have it.” 

“Shouldn’t we wait?” Shiro says, which he knows is just as much a confirmation as anything else— no, Keith isn’t alone in feeling this way. Obviously Shiro likes him back. But Shiro’s been trying to be responsible. He really shouldn’t be _asking_ Keith this.

Keith looks at him with something like hope. He doesn’t answer him, focusing instead on working the other button to Shiro’s coat, trailing his way down, exposing the white undershirt slowly. 

“Why wait?” Keith asks.

And, well, it’s a valid question. Shiro stares at Keith as he tugs his coat off his shoulders. Shiro lets him, shrugging out of it slowly, leaving him only in his shirtsleeves. Really, suddenly, Shiro can’t think of any good reason as to _why._ There’s a liquid nature to the way Keith moves, that quiet confidence that Shiro loves. He doesn’t want to look away. 

He wants Keith to always feel so confident. 

So he leans in and kisses Keith. He keeps it slow as he does, keeping the kiss gentle up until Keith whimpers, grabs him, and makes it dirty. It’s clear that Keith lacks finesse, all teeth and tongue, but Shiro finds it electric— he murmurs Keith’s name and gentles the kiss, but not before he presses closer still, his hands sliding up Keith’s thighs. 

Keith grabs at him, touching him wherever he can. His hands skate over Shiro’s shoulders, down his chest, along his sides. He fists in Shiro’s undershirt and drags him closer still, squirming to the edge of the counter to wrap his legs around Shiro. 

Keith’s hard. The realization sparks down Shiro’s spine before he’s even fully aware of it. It makes him groan, a punched-out sound galloping away from him. 

Keith looks at him in wonder, touching his fingers to Shiro’s kiss-swollen lips. 

Selfishly, Shiro wants this. He wants the memory of Keith in his arms like this, the taste of him on his tongue. He wants to remember the way Keith looks above him, looks beneath him. He wants to launch to Kerberos and remember every inch of Keith, knowing he’s the only one who knows it. 

The desire takes him by surprise. He’s gotten used to ignoring these feelings. 

Shiro loses time to kissing Keith— it’s easy to sink into that feeling. He lays worship to Keith’s mouth, sucking on his bottom lip and deepening the kiss with a lazy swipe of his tongue. Keith makes the softest sounds, spurred onward. He grabs at Shiro, thighs tight around Shiro’s hips as he squeezes him in. 

“More,” Keith pants against his mouth and Shiro’s eager to obey him. 

“What do you want?” Shiro asks as he mouths at Keith’s jaw, nuzzling, addicted to the taste of his skin beneath his lips.

Keith shakes his head, breathless. “Whatever you want.”

It makes Shiro laugh, his hands sliding up Keith’s hips. “Liar,” he says, teasing. He kisses Keith’s ear when he reaches it, his voice just as breathless. “Tell me what _you_ want. I know you’re thinking of something.” 

Keith makes a soft sound, something like a growl. His fingers are tight in Shiro’s hair, pinning it away from his forehead. It feels good, like electric pain and singing aches that shoot through him. Shiro’s never felt a squirm of pleasure over the slightest whisper of pain before. 

Shiro’s body is sore, his muscles tight, his bracelets ready to activate. It’s an effort to do even this, but this is what Shiro wants. He wants. Everything, desperately. Now that he has it, now that he can taste Keith, swallow the sounds Keith makes, it’s a wonder that he could ever have hesitated at all. 

Keith pulls back to stare into his eyes when he says, “I want you to suck me off.” 

“ _Oh,_ ” Shiro says, the sound punching out of him. 

“Is it okay?” Keith asks.

It’s almost a loaded question. Keith could be asking for any number of reasons— what they’re doing in general, what Keith wants, how Shiro feels when his body aches like this. Any number of reasons why it couldn’t be okay. Why it shouldn’t be okay. 

Shiro’s hands go to Keith’s belt, working it open. 

He smiles up at Keith. “It’s okay. More than.” 

Shiro waits for Keith to uncurl his legs from around his waist, then takes his time shimmying Keith’s trousers down. Once they’re low enough for him to get a hand on him, he takes a deep, steadying breath and slips his hand beneath the waistband of his underwear. 

It’s luxurious to touch Keith’s cock for the first time, already so hard against Shiro’s palm. Keith sucks in a sharp breath. It makes Shiro groan, louder than any sound Keith’s made, and the first drag of his hand feels blissfully good. 

Keith’s eyelashes flutter as he fights back against the urge to close his eyes. He bites his lip instead, watching Shiro with that same blazing determination and desire. It’s incredibly encouraging. And hot as hell.

Shiro licks his lips. It’s been a while since he’s done something like this, and the urge to be good for Keith is strong. He wants to do everything he can to make it _good_ for Keith.

He ducks down and curls his mouth around Keith’s cockhead. Keith sighs, nearly going boneless just from that. His hands tangle tight in Shiro’s hair and Shiro moans when Keith tugs. 

“Is that okay?” Keith asks.

“Yes,” Shiro whispers when he draws away. He looks up at Keith. “I like it.” 

He doesn’t wait for Keith’s response, working himself down over his cock instead. He suckles and drinks around him, licking in a slow pace, taking his time and knowing that Keith won’t likely last for long. At least, if the tremble to his hips is any indication. It’s just as well— Shiro’s not sure how long he can maintain this position either, slumped over Keith like this, his body aching but his heart pounding with desire.

He swallows around Keith and it feels good, so good. He’ll do anything to make Keith feel good, too. Now that this door’s been open to him, Shiro is eager to run through it. 

“Yeah,” Keith pants, breathless. “Yeah, like that, Shiro— _Shiro._ ” 

It sounds good to hear Keith’s voice, always husky on its own, sound so graveled out. Shiro bobs his head, meeting the thrust of Keith’s hips. 

“You’re so pretty,” Shiro says when he draws back to breathe, for lack of anything better to say.

Keith groans, fingers tight in his hair. “Don’t stop just to say something so embarrassing—” 

He cuts off with a sharp breath when Shiro chuckles and leans back down, licking a wet stripe across the head of his cock. 

Keith moans, ducking his head, and whispers, “You too, though.” 

It’s strange, to be here like this with Keith, but it feels inevitable, too. Keith always looks at him with such intensity, always seeks Shiro in a crowded room. He always finds him. He touches him so easily— a touch to his shoulder, his hands clasping Shiro’s as he’s pulled into a one-armed hug, a bump of his hip against his. It’s always welcomed. Keith belongs here with him. 

Shiro looks up at Keith as he sucks him off, studying him. The sway of his hair framing his face as he moves, the bite to his lips as he holds back those soft sounds, the pulse of his hips as he seeks the warm heat of Shiro’s mouth. 

“I should say,” Keith says, eyes closed and lips swollen from his own bites, “that this isn’t what I expected when I came to find you.” 

Shiro gives an inquisitive hum, sure he must look amused as he pillows his lips down the length of Keith’s cock, licking and mouthing at him. 

“You just… looked really cute telling your story. Talking about buttons,” Keith mutters, like he’s embarrassed by that of all things. 

It makes Shiro laugh, pulling back to swipe his thumb across Keith’s cockhead, beaded with precome. He hums. “Buttons are very cute.”

He swallows back down over Keith’s cock, letting it slide across his tongue. He takes his time with it, content to tease Keith. He wants it to be good, wants it to last. He licks along the underside of Keith’s cock, bobbing and dragging his tongue.

Keith groans, already trembling from the effort of holding himself back. Shiro squeezes his hip, then shifts his hand to curl gently around the base of Keith’s cock, squeezing as he bobs his head, suckling around Keith. He strokes in time to the glide of his mouth. 

Keith makes a pleased sound, hitching and twisting out of him. He touches Shiro, unsure where to place his hands, guided forward by his own brand of confidence— unsure where to place his hands, it seems, but knowing that Shiro will like whatever it is that Keith does. And that’s true. Every touch from Keith ignites within Shiro. 

Keith ends up pushing Shiro’s hair away from his face. Shiro looks up at him with a small smile, and Keith moans weakly when their eyes meet— as if taken aback by that mere act itself. Shiro turns his head, eyelashes dipping as he drags Keith’s cock into his mouth, then against the inside of his cheek, letting it bulge out. 

Keith gasps, fingertips touching Shiro’s cheek, tracing the shape of his own cock. His other hand is still twisted up in Shiro’s hair, the touch possessive and cherishing. He doesn’t pull and doesn’t guide Shiro— just trusts him to take what he wants, to give Keith what he needs. 

And Shiro can do that. He can give Keith the world. 

He cups Keith’s hip to coax him up, and they move together like that, setting a pace. Keith lets Shiro guide him and then quickly takes control, rocking his hips up to meet Shiro’s mouth, pressing in deep. Shiro fights back against the urge to back off, instead pushing closer, taking him in deeper, swallowing around him with the swirl of his tongue and the gentling of his lips as he suckles. He moans happily at the feeling of it and hopes Keith can feel that vibration. 

It feels good to be doing this for Keith, to feel the power of Keith’s body as he bows over him, tasting and feeling him. The friction is there, the flex of Keith’s hands, the shudder of his body as Shiro lays worship to his cock. Tongue, lips, breath— it’s all Keith’s. Shiro squirms closer, aching in his pants, and wonders why he ever thought to wait for this. 

He breathes out harshly through his nose as he presses deeper, suctioning his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, giving Keith everything. His breath, his body, his mouth. He clings tight to Keith’s thighs, mouth open to Keith as he fucks up past his lips. 

When Keith comes, that feels easy, too. Shiro feels it rising when the steady rock of Keith’s hips suddenly goes jerky and inept. He feels the twitch of Keith’s cock on his tongue. 

Shiro drinks him down, moaning happily at the taste of him, at the feeling of a pulsing cock on his tongue and knowing that it’s Keith’s. That Shiro brought him here. Keith’s fingers are clenched so tight in his hair, his breath little gasps above him. 

“You— you too,” Keith says, already pulling Shiro up towards him. “Shiro—” 

He crashes his mouth to Shiro’s, licking into his mouth and tasting himself. It makes Shiro moan weakly, his hands feeling fumbly and unusable. Keith is more determined, far more graceful, as he yanks open Shiro’s pants and slips his hand inside. 

He takes Shiro in hand, kissing him sloppily as he strokes him off. All Shiro can do is chase that feeling, panting against Keith’s mouth as he rocks against his touch. Shiro breaks the kiss only to groan loudly, shuddering apart. 

Shiro comes with a pleased gasp, writhing against Keith’s hand. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him, steady and sure, and it’s centering in its own way. It’s while he’s rocking up into Keith’s hand that Shiro realizes that the lingering anxiety hitching his shoulders up earlier is gone. He feels perfectly relaxed. There’s no pain, only the joy of seeing Keith here with him. 

He doubts that could have been Keith’s aim, but he can’t help but smile at him anyway, serene and blissed out. He curls his fingers in Keith’s hair, enjoying the ache such an action affords him, and beams at Keith.

“You should impulse-kiss me more often,” Shiro says, and knows Keith will read it for the permission it is.

Keith smiles but tries to cover it with a snort. “Shut up,” he says, laughing. “You’re so…”

Shiro never actually finds out what he is according to Keith, because Keith cuts himself off in favor of kissing Shiro. And Shiro’s more than okay with that, swapping their breath and struggling to kiss around their smiles. The sun sinks behind them, but all Shiro wants to focus on is Keith and the perfect way he fits in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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